Paper Connection
by Cold-Zephyr
Summary: They may be living miles apart, but love is what keeps them connected. Read the heartfelt letters that Bret and Shawn write each other in this story, Paper Connection.
1. The Confession

Paper Connection

By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Timeline: The moment after Backlash ends.  
  
Description: -slash- Shawn Michaels receives a heartfelt and painful letter in his locker as the Backlash PPV ends, and finds out a lot of things he should've known before. R and R please...  
  
A/N: Before you read this, let me first confirm the fact that I am NOT very fond of slash fiction. I just wrote this because the situation was already there and stuff, and because I just need to write something, damn it. Hope you enjoy reading it, it being so totally angst-ridden and all...

-----

Feeling awfully worn out from his match at Backlash, Shawn trudged tiredly to the locker room and found a letter taped on the inside of his locker. Nothing was written on the plain white envelope that contained the letter, which made him wonder: Who was it from? What was it about? Why? The questions that ran through his mind were soon to be answered as he opened the envelope...

-  
  
Dearest Shawn,  
  
Ever since I left the business, only one thing has occupied my thoughts. One thing has caused me six years of sleepless nights. Six fucking years! That's how long my heart's been hurting, broken, bleeding endlessly with no hope in sight.  
  
Know what's caused me all of that? You.  
  
I ought to jump off the top of a building now and just end my misery, and I came so close to doing so at times, but then I found out that you and the rest of the crew were coming over here to Canada. I figured that writing this letter would help me vent out, even just a little bit. Maybe releasing the pent-up feelings I had inside might make me feel a tad better, so I guess it's worth a try. Anything's worth a try at this point, 'cause life just can't sink any lower for me.  
  
I've been hurting because damn it, I'm in love. With you. And you...you had no fucking idea how I felt.  
  
I have felt this way for so many years, trying my damned hardest to just ignore it, but I couldn't. So I just hid it deep within the morose darkness of my heart, and it made me want to cry at times because the pain was just too much. That all the times I could have and should have told you, I didn't. I never told you, I vowed to myself not to, because I knew that I could never have you. We...are just not meant to be. So I chose to suffer silently.  
  
I can't bear suffering anymore.  
  
Shawn Michaels, I am in love with you. I don't want to be, but I am. The tiny stir of feelings I felt for you the day we first met have festered into heart-wrenching and painful pangs of longing and desire. You're the voice inside my head and the face that haunts my dreams. The way your dark blonde tresses flow just perfectly past your shoulders, the way you pull at my heartstrings whenever you smile, the way you carry yourself with such an air of confidence yet are kind enough to befriend (or try to befriend) cold and harsh individuals like me, the way you defend those you care about without a second thought...I just fell for it all, no matter how hard I tried not to. And I'll never feel the same way about anybody else.  
  
Sorry...I'm sorry I acted so heartless and withdrawn towards you. I'm sorry I drove you away whenever you tried to reach out to me. I'm sorry for being such an asshole. Truth be told, I care about you very much, but I didn't want to let it show. I didn't want to let my guard down, because I didn't want to end up hurting myself. But I can't escape that either way, can I?  
  
Look, I understand that you were just doing your job that day in Montreal, at the 1997 Survivor Series. Now that I think about it, I've done lots of things to deserve what I got. So please, it wasn't your fault, let's just move on. The WWE might not have, seeing as they still put you in that stupid storyline on the Highlight Reel, but I know we can.  
  
As I continue writing, I'm sitting hidden in the audience at Backlash. I feel real sorry for you, loud "You Screwed Bret" chants and all. But I can't help but chuckle right now...people can be so childish sometimes. You didn't do anything to deserve this, Shawn, so don't feel bad.  
  
This letter is drawing to a close, so let me just get to the bottom line: I've loved you for a long time now, and I still do, and I just want to let you know so I can get on with life without so much heartache.  
  
I may have vented some pain, but I know I'll never stop hurting. 'Cause real love, it hurts, but I'll deal with it...somehow.  
  
Yours always,

Bret

-  
  
Shawn's eyes misted over as he finished reading. He folded up the paper and put it back in the envelope, placing it gingerly into his gym bag. His steps were slow and solemn, his heart feeling heavy with guilt, sorrow and regret after reading the letter. As he stepped into the shower, blankly twisting the shower knob, he leaned against the wall and began sobbing heavily, his hot, saline tears mixing with the cold shower water that poured down on his shaking body.

-----  
  
(Edited 6/19/2004) This story was originally intended to be a one-shot, but due to the huge response I got (wow, 10 reviews...I'm so touched!), I decided to continue the story. I hope you all enjoy it! Lovingly yours, Cold-Zephyr


	2. Lingering Questions

Paper Connection By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Description: -slash- Shawn Michaels receives a heartfelt and painful letter in his locker as the Backlash PPV ends, and finds out a lot of things he should've known about before. R and R please...  
  
A/N: Hey, guess what? It's not a one-shot anymore, thanks to your encouragement. =)

Reading some of the reviews I got, I notice that some people are shocked, appalled and/or disgusted by my choice of pairing. Okay, I may not know my Montreal Screwjob History 101 as well as some, but I am aware that they're not exactly friends. Hey, I don't like the pairing very much myself (I feel that they lack chemistry), but long story short, Shawn/Bret was the pairing that best fit what I was looking for.  
  
I didn't mean to offend any Bret or Shawn fans out there, so if I ruffled anyone's feathers, I'm sorry. Now, when you read this, just be sure to keep in mind that although they may hate each other in reality, this is all F-I- C-T-I-O-N. Let's just call it an AU fic and get it over with. Okay? Okay!  
  
P.S. To the other reviewers who were able to look past the rocky history these two have and just appreciate the story, and even take the time to say nice things about it, I thank you very, very much for the love!  
  
Now let's get on with it, shall we?  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 2: Lingering Questions  
  
The Raw taping was scheduled for tomorrow, and the wrestlers at the hotel were now catching some well-needed shut-eye, save for one. Shawn sat quietly at the dresser in his hotel room, staring at the blank piece of hotel stationery placed atop the desk. Biting the cap off the pen, he started writing, just letting the thoughts and emotions spill out of his heart and onto the paper.  
  
-----  
  
Bret,  
  
I have two conflicting thoughts in my head right now. 1) I'm glad you wrote, because something was just bothering me about you all this time, 'till that point I still worried about you, and now I know the truth; and 2) I wish you didn't write at all, because now I sit here feeling like a long-healed wound has been reopened. Maybe you feel a little bit better now that you wrote, but I sure as hell felt god-awful after reading it.  
  
The truths and confessions in your letter...are things I ought to have known, but didn't, and now that I know, wish that I didn't. Because, damn it, it was too late when I finally found out. They answered a lot of questions that have been lingering in the back of my head, yet left me even more confused afterwards.  
  
One of the mysteries I have now finally figured out is why something always held me back from pursuing a loving relationship with someone...with anyone. Whenever I had a chance at it, it was always visions of you that entered my head. And then it would never work out, because for some strange reason, thoughts of you distracted me. It's only now that I realize how much you really mattered to me...maybe I even loved you. But now it's clear...you were the reason that I couldn't be with anybody. Because my heart only felt for one person, and that person was you. The one furthest from my reach.  
  
There was just something about you...up to today, I still can't figure it out, but all I know is that I was attracted to you. A tiny little crush that I just pushed away...or tried to. The feeling was faint, but persistent nonetheless. And I was this close to getting rid of it for good, then suddenly I found that accursed letter taped in my locker. Damn it...couldn't you just approach me and tell it to my face? You were there anyway! Could've made it easier for the both of us. Or me, at least.  
  
Once every often I thought about you, and what it'd be like if you were still here. Now I think about you every second, every minute, every day. These longings and desires that were long buried have now been brought out again, and they're worse than ever before. There's nothing I can do about it now, is there? Gee, thanks a lot for making my life just that more miserable, Bret.  
  
Maybe if you'd told me sooner (MUCH sooner), something real good might've come out of it. We both could've had a shot at happiness, you know? And knowing that it just passed us by makes me feel even worse. Now we're both depressingly lonely. And I think I'm doomed to a life of solitude. I sure as hell know I won't be able to love somebody else, how about you?  
  
Please don't leave me hanging here, Bret. I really need you to reply, 'cause I still have so many questions pounding my brain, the most important one being: Where do we go from here?  
  
Hey, tomorrow's another Raw taping. When and if you get the chance to watch, I just want you to know that when you see me out there acting alright and peachy keen, I'm not. When you see me out there, know this: I'm thinking about you, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time. Smile for me when you see me on TV, alright? Who knows, maybe I'll start feeling better as well.  
  
Shawn  
  
-----  
  
It had been over a week now since Backlash. Bret sat at the coffee table, sunshine pouring in through the windows, as he rummaged through the enormous pile of fan mail to pick one to read. He finally chose a letter, the person's name and address in particular catching his eye: Shawn Michaels.  
  
His expression changed throughout reading the letter. At first he was sad, then a little sorry for both Shawn and himself, and as he finished reading, traces of a smile played upon his lips. And, yes, he would be smiling for Shawn later on as Raw aired.  
  
-----  
  
I seriously have no idea where this story is going, but I do know that I'm going to make this a "Griffin and Sabine" type of fic where you just read the actual letters that they send to each other. I hope this chapter won't garner as much negativity as the first one...seriously, I just wanted to write something, you know? And then I end up getting told off and shot down because of my choice of pairing? Jeez...well, I hope you liked this chapter. I'm really excited, nervous and curious as to what you all think, so please, please review! I'll try to come up with the next one soon. That is, if you still want me to. Love always, Cold-Zephyr


	3. White Rose

Paper Connection By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Timeline: The moment after Backlash ends.  
  
Description: -slash- Shawn Michaels receives a heartfelt and painful letter in his locker as the Backlash PPV ends, and finds out a lot of things he should've known before. It's no longer a one-shot, R and R please...  
  
A/N: Here's the third installment! By the way, it might look like an ending, but this story ain't over by a long shot!  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 3: White Rose  
  
Shawn awoke sometime around midnight to the loud sound of knocking at the hotel room door. Still feeling tired as hell, he trudged sleepily towards the door.  
  
"Not another fan," he mumbled as he opened it.  
  
Standing outside the door was a UPS delivery man. "Are you Mr. Hickenbottom, sir?"  
  
"Yeah," Shawn grunted.  
  
The delivery man handed Shawn a long, white box with an envelope attached to it. "A special delivery for you, sir," he said placidly. "I'll be on my way now, good evening, sir."  
  
"You too." Closing the door behind him, Shawn set the box on the table and opened the envelope.  
  
-----  
  
Dear Shawn,  
  
First of all, I'm sorry. Sorry for causing you all that shit you described in your letter, sorry for making you feel so bad...I seriously didn't expect-- -it was the absolute last thing on my mind---that you felt that way about me. I really didn't know at all. I hope you understand that I only wrote so that I could get a few things off my chest, and I wasn't anticipating this kind of a response from you...I was expecting that you'd toss it in the trash bin, actually. I don't know whether I should laugh or cry now knowing what I do.  
  
"Where do we go from here," you ask? Well, Shawn, my answer is: I have no idea at all. That letter you wrote me really threw me right off track. We could brush it off, you know...it's the easiest way out. We'll just forget everything and pretend it never happened. No fuss, no frills. I'd like to think I'm fairly capable of moving on, now that everything that needs to be out of the way is out of the way.  
  
But hearing from you was actually nice. It put the smile back on my face...and yes, I did smile for you on that Raw show, just like you asked me to. I still care about you, Shawn, I care very much, and if it's okay with you, I'd love it if you could write back again so I'll know how you're doing. I really hope you're alright.  
  
So if it's okay with you, please write me back. But if you feel you're better off just forgetting about that letter I wrote and moving on with your life, then just do so. As long as you're fine, I'll get on alright by myself somehow.  
  
I'm actually doing quite well myself right now, at least compared to back then. I've managed to move on a little bit, going about my business without such heavy and painful heartache dragging me down. The sun's shining brighter nowadays in my life. As for what thoughts have been flooding my head now, well surprise, surprise...it's still you. But at least I do so now with a smile on my face instead of a scowl or a look of despair or depression. That's certainly an improvement, if I may say so myself.  
  
Anyway, you're probably wondering what's in the box I sent you. It's a white rose, actually...it's said that they symbolize friendship, so if anything, I'm hoping that you and I could be good friends. As anyone could tell, things were always a bit...iffy between us, and although I don't have the chance to talk or hang out with you anymore, this right here is the only chance I have to finally clear up all the shit between you and I. Point is, I'm asking you now, 'cause "never" might come too soon: can we be friends?  
  
Whether or not you reply, I think I have a better chance of living on happily all on my own now. I still feel awful for making you feel so bad, but all in all, I'm glad I wrote that letter, 'cause then I finally got to deal with all my emotions properly. But, Shawn, there's one fact that's for certain and it's set in stone: I'll always be in love with you.  
  
Take care of that white rose...let it be a reminder that there's someone, somewhere who's thinking fondly of you. And more importantly than taking care of that flower, take care of yourself.  
  
'Till next time,  
  
Bret  
  
---  
  
Shawn carefully took the lovely white rose from the box, twirling it between his forefinger and thumb as his lips slowly curled up into a smile...the first real, genuine smile he had in weeks. This was something he would definitely cherish.  
  
-  
  
Bret sat idly on the couch as he was watching Raw on Monday night. Chuckling to himself as that awfully cheesy theme song of Shawn's played, he stopped, and noticed something interesting on the TV screen as Shawn jiggled and danced his way to the ring. Pinned onto Shawn's T-shirt was...the white rose.

-----

A/N: End chapter for now. Like I said, it might look like an ending, but it ain't (provided, of course, that people still want to read). It ain't over by a long shot, baby! LOL ...Cold-Zephyr


	4. I'm Fine, I Guess

Paper Connection By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Description: -slash- Shawn Michaels receives a heartfelt and painful letter in his locker as the Backlash PPV ends, and finds out a lot of things he should've known before. It's no longer a one-shot, R and R please...  
  
A/N: Chapter 4 is kind of short, but I promise you there's a lot more to follow! Really! Anyway, here goes...  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 4: I'm Fine, I Guess  
  
The Raw airing for the night was long since over, and Shawn Michaels was the only one left in the locker room. He twirled the white rose Bret had sent him between his fingers, gazing at it vacantly before setting it aside and grabbing a pen and paper, now ready to write his reply to Bret Hart once again.  
  
-  
  
Dear Bret,  
  
Hope you were watching Raw this week. Yes, that is indeed the white rose you gave me pinned to my shirt, which means yes, I do want to be your friend more than anything. Well, almost anything.  
  
Okay, I'll be honest with you. As much as I want to be perfectly happy with finally being friends with you, I won't deny my inner longing for something...more. Damn it, Bret, I'm not looking for a fucking pen pal here! Can't you see? When will you ever get it into your head that I am damned crazy in love with you? The feelings I have for you are leaving me on the brink of insanity, god damn it! I'm lonely, Bret...I need you.  
  
Not like I'll ever be seeing you again, ever, in my lifetime. It's so sad...knowing that I'm gonna end up all alone on my deathbed, while the love of my life is all the way in fucking Canada, probably feeling the same way I do. Lonely. Empty. Incomplete. And there's nothing either one of us can do about it, 'cause we never even tried.  
  
So you wanna know how I'm doing, huh? Well, I guess I'll go with "fine," as I'm already pretty used to dragging through the shit of everyday life as an empty shell of a man. I'll break down the important happenings of this week so that you can better understand exactly what I mean when I say "fine."  
  
Some fans in the crowd razzed me a bit over in the England house show. A mild "you screwed Bret" chant was directed at me. It's really pissing me off. The female fans in the audience softened the blow a bit, though. I can always count on 'em screaming fangirls to save the day for HBK. Hunter jumped me from behind again on Raw, the fucking bastard. I'll be sure to beat his ass bloody in the June Bad Blood PPV, so I hope you'll be watching. And I'm not exactly sure, but I think Chris Benoit was hitting on me backstage. Ugh. And did you see how that pervert pulled my tights down on national television a few weeks ago? The nerve! I wasted no time brushing him off, though. I know I'm way too hung up on you to even try with anyone else, especially not with Benoit. That man gives me the creeps. Needless to say, you were on my mind the whole week long. And beyond my own control, you always will be for a long time to come, I'm sure of that.  
  
Yep, my standard for "fine" has lowered considerably these past few weeks.  
  
I'm not ever gonna get over my feelings for you, Bret, so I won't even bother trying. Since there's not much I can do about, well, us, I suppose I'll try to shelve the loneliness aside for now and settle for the next best thing, which of course, is friendship. The emptiness won't get better, but hey, I'll be..."fine." Life from this point is bittersweet at best.  
  
I really hope you write me back, Bret, I'm looking forward to hearing from you. Though only on paper, I cherish our little connection, and I'm glad we're keeping in touch.  
  
Yours,  
  
Shawn  
  
-  
  
Guilt mixed with amusement as Bret finished reading Shawn's letter. Deep in his heart, even Bret knew that friendship wouldn't be enough for either one of them. But what could he possibly do about it?  
  
Although the general tone of the letter was rather sad, Shawn Michaels somehow always found a way to make Bret smile, which is one of the reasons why Bret fell for him in the first place.  
  
-----  
  
Stay tuned! More soon, I hope. 'Till next time, this is Cold-Zephyr signing out. 


	5. I Wish

Paper Connection  
  
By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Description: -slash- Shawn Michaels receives a heartfelt and painful letter in his locker as the Backlash PPV ends, and finds out a lot of things he should've known before. It's not a one-shot anymore, R and R please...  
  
A/N: Finally! Here it is, the fifth chapter to "Paper Connection." Enjoy reading, y'all! (And on a side note: Yeah, Melissa, the whole Shawn calling Benoit a pervert bit was intended to be funny. Glad I made ya laugh!)  
  
---  
  
Chapter 5: I Wish  
  
So what was Bret Hart going to write this time around? How would he react to Shawn's most recent letter? "Damn it, Bret, I'm not looking for a fucking pen pal here," the sentence Shawn had written repeated over and over again in Bret's mind. It took him a good two hours of deep pondering before he finally sat down at his desk and began scribbling away.  
  
-  
  
Dear Shawn,  
  
I offered you my friendship, and only my friendship, simply because that's all I have to give. Can't you see? You're not the only one who's hurting...my heart is breaking apart as well. Yes, I'm slowly but surely withering away, but tell me, Shawn, what the fuck can I do about it? My hands are tied, my heart is caged and never will be free...I'm sorry.  
  
As life drags on, I still suffer silently deep inside, all because of my love for you. It's killing me that I am the one that's making you feel like this...so sad, so miserable...maybe I should never have written that one stupid letter in the first place. But it's so wonderful to finally be in touch with you, after spending lifetimes so far apart from each other, emotionally far apart around seven years ago, and now physically far apart. Hearing from you is what keeps me hanging on. Though we've never even conversed in person lately, you brought a little bit of sunshine back into my life, just by writing me back. Thanks, Shawn.  
  
Yes indeed, I've been madly in love with you for what seems like forever now, but I had dismissed it as a crazy infatuation...at least back then, anyway. But it's all clear to me now. I truly, honestly know deep in my heart how genuine my feelings are for you. So I want you to know, Shawn...  
  
I love you.  
  
I really do. It's more than just some stupid old crush. Even if I may never ever get to see your face in my lifetime, even if I die all alone, even if the rest of my life will be filled with nothing but loneliness and misery, even if I live as an empty shell of a man...I'll always love you. And you are and will always be the only one for me...no one else even comes close to you and the way you make me feel. No matter where you are, no matter what you do, and no matter how far apart we are, my heart will always belong to you.  
  
If only there were a way for us to be together, I'd jump at the chance to finally be with you, Shawn. My body, heart and soul ache for the warmth of your smile, the feel of your soft skin, the pure ecstasy that would overcome me at the very sight of you. You're the one thing that would finally make my life complete.  
  
But there is no way at all, and I doubt that there ever will be (we're a star-crossed pair, aren't we?). Keeping in touch via letters is the best I can do, and if I lose this, the only connection I have with you, I don't know how I'll go on. I need you in my life, Shawn, no matter how faint our connection may be. So please write me back...I don't want to lose you again.  
  
All I can do is wish, hope and pray for the day you and I will finally meet face-to-face, but until then, I'll just be right here, waiting for your next letter, and praying to God that maybe some day, I'll see your beautiful face again.  
  
Yours,  
  
Bret  
  
-  
  
The crisp morning breeze blew past as Bret strolled the Calgary streets to a quaint little flower shop just near his house. "Good morning, Jacques," he greeted the plump, jolly flower vendor as he swung open the shop door.  
  
Even the bushy grey mustache the vendor had couldn't conceal his warm and friendly grin as he saw Bret walk in. "Ah, Mr. Hart! Back again, I see?"  
  
"Yeah, I am."  
  
The portly old man cheerily clasped his hands together as he spoke in his thick Canadian-French accent. "What will it be this time? Another white rose?"  
  
"The white rose was lovely, but this time I'm buying long-stemmed red roses...a dozen of them. I want the freshest ones you've got."  
  
"Good choice, Mr. Hart. Red roses are always a classic, you can never go wrong with them. They're the most romantic type of flower, and a great way to show how much you love someone. Don't mind my asking, Mr. Hart, but who are you buying them for, anyway?"  
  
The faintest trace of a smile played on Bret's lips as he gazed at the lovely grey-skied Calgary setting outside the flower shop window. "They're for someone very special to my heart...hey, you know what? Make 'em two dozen."  
  
Jacques the flower vendor was so elated that the only thing missing from his facial expression was having two dollar signs gleaming from his eyes. "Wow, yes, sir!! You must really love this person, huh?"  
  
"...Yeah."  
  
---  
  
A/N: I'll have the next chapter in a week or two, but until then, keep it cool, dudes! Remember, patience is a virtue LOL!!! Love, Cold-Zephyr 


	6. There's Gotta Be A Way

Paper Connection

By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Description: -slash- Bret/Shawn They may live miles apart, but they still remain connected. Read the heartfelt and painful letters that these two write each other in this story, "Paper Connection."  
  
A/N: The letters gradually get shorter and shorter as the scenes get longer and longer, now that we're nearing the end of this story. Hope you like this chapter, people! I spent a good five hours toiling over it. And like I said, letter's gonna be short here. Hope it's okay, y'all! A little bit more slashiness in this chapter (I have Yhu to blame for my getting slightly more desensitized to slash fiction...oh, Yhu, why do you have to be so gosh-darn talented?? LOL)  
  
---  
  
Chapter 6: There's Gotta Be A Way  
  
The twenty-four blood red roses Bret had sent him were now placed in a vase that sat prettily in the middle of Shawn Michaels' coffee table. Shawn was sitting on one end of the table, eyeing the roses as the sunshine poured in through the glass window in the kitchen. The entire house was silent as he sat there by his lonesome. _Funny how coffee tables always come with two chairs, _Shawn thought, now staring at the empty chair across from him. _Just goes to show that no one's meant to live all alone._  
  
-  
  
Dear Bret,  
  
No! You can't give up just yet...I won't let you! I love you, Bret...I love you too much to let that happen. You're all that I want, all that I need to be happy, and I ain't gonna let you slip right through my fingers. I can't...  
  
My heart is yours and no one else's. You're the center of my universe, the absolute love of my life...you're the only one for me. It just ain't easy to give you up that quickly. It's impossible for me to get over you. I hope you still feel the same way about me as I do about you, because my love for you only gets deeper and deeper.  
  
If only you were here, Bret. I would wrap my arms around you and hold you close to me. I want to let you take my lips captive, I want to feel your skin against mine, I want our bodies to be entwined together, I want you to take me away, I want to belong to you and you alone...I ache to make sweet, passionate love to you, giving you both my body and my heart, screaming your name over and over again as pure ecstasy takes over my entire body...I long for you to cherish me. Most of all, I want to keep you by my side forever, and never let you go, because you just don't do that to the one you love with all of your heart, mind and soul.  
  
But right now, I can only do that in my dreams. Why is life so unfair to the two of us? Why?  
  
Damn it, I'm tired of wasting away. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of not having you near me. I am so sick and tired of just sitting here and wishing for a miracle to happen...it's about time I made it happen myself.  
  
Bret, I'm scared. The thought of living on in eternal misery and loneliness...it haunts me every hour of the day. Me being me, I'm not going to give this up without a fight. There's gotta be a way, and I promise, I swear I'm going to find it, no matter what it takes.  
  
Please, don't give up on me...on us.  
  
Yours always and forever,  
  
Shawn  
  
-  
  
The entire World Wrestling Entertainment crew was in attendance at a meeting scheduled by the chairman of the WWE, Vince McMahon himself. He cleared his throat into the microphone at the podium onstage, causing everyone to stop their friendly banter and pay attention to the boss, and whatever it was that he had to say.  
  
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, Superstars and Divas," he began, "I called you all here to discuss the greatest sports-entertainment event of this season, and next to Wrestlemania, the greatest event of the entire year: WWE Summerslam."  
  
Polite applause echoed throughout the conference room before Vince continued. "Now, I would like to welcome all suggestions for where we ought to hold this pay-per-view. If anyone has an ideal venue for Summerslam 2004, please say so."  
  
The room became noisy as the wrestlers all called out their suggestions. "The Chicago All-State Arena," Chris Jericho called out.  
  
"Madison Square Garden," chirped Stacy Keibler.  
  
Kurt Angle stood up and shouted out his suggestion. "The Philadelphia CoreStates Center!"  
  
"Detroit, Michigan!"  
  
"Miami, Florida!"  
  
"Cameron, North Carolina!"  
  
"Houston, Texas!"  
  
Everyone was excitedly sharing their ideas, many of them suggesting their own hometowns (for obvious reasons). Finally, Shawn Michaels spoke up. "What about Canada?"  
  
Silence quickly fell over everybody in the room, and they all turned to stare at Shawn, dumbfounded. Mr. McMahon was a little surprised himself. "Well, Canada's excellent, and the crowds are always wild, but Shawn, don't you...?"  
  
Shawn knew what Vince was thinking. He knew what everyone was thinking about his suggestion. The loud chants of the Canada crowd in Backlash repeated in his head: _You screwed Bret...you screwed Bret...you screwed Bret!!! _"Okay, I know I'm not exactly the most popular guy there, but hey, Summerslam ain't all about HBK, right?" Besides, there was another certain reason behind his suggestion...a certain someone he needed to see.  
  
Vince nodded. "Canada it is then! I'm glad the Canadians haven't gotten under your skin all that much, Shawn. Your selflessness and tolerance are very admirable."  
  
Shawn could only smile at this. _Au contraire, Vince,_ he thought, _those Canuck crowds still piss me off, but it's worth suffering through. I have to see Bret again._  
  
"So, everyone: What city in Canada?"  
  
All the people in attendance shouted out one name in perfect unison, the wrestlers' favorite city in Canada to visit: "TORONTO!!!"  
  
---  
  
A/N: Ooh, looks like the WWE crew's going to Canada for Summerslam! How will this affect the paper lovers, and when will they finally see each other again? Patience, dear readers, I'll have the answer cooked up in this little brain of mine in a week or two. I can't wait to hear what you thought of this chapter! Let me know!  
  
Love always and all ways (LOL that was a Miss Jackie rip-off), Cold-Zephyr


	7. The Drive

Paper Connection  
  
By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Description: -slash- They may live miles apart, but love keeps them together. Read the heartfelt letters that these two send each other in this story, Paper Connection.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the lateness. Sloth is deadly. Anyway, for the first time in the story, there will be no letter in the chapter (unless you count the little postcard at the end LOL). Sorry if you were expecting one, and I hope that you'll still enjoy reading this part of the story, which is something of a songfic-type chapter, even in the absence of the usual long, heartfelt and emotional letter. I hope I'm not gonna drive away your interest in the story or anything. Thanks, everyone!  
  
---  
  
Chapter 7: Driving Away  
  
The sides of the letter crumpled in Bret's tight grip. He had been reading and rereading it the whole night long, every single word stirring deep pangs in his heart. How he wished that Shawn's persistence was enough to bring them together. Bret dropped the letter in a sudden outburst of raw emotion: a volatile mix of frustration and sorrow. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to...drive.  
  
Finally deciding to do so, Bret shrugged on a leather jacket and got into his car. The warm breeze blew in through the open car window, messing up his dark locks. He didn't know where he was going exactly, but at that particular moment, it didn't matter. He just needed to escape, to drive away from the heavy emotions that burdened his heart. Sixty miles an hour...seventy...eighty...Bret always found freedom, solace and comfort behind the wheel. The smooth, suave voice of the radio station DJ was heard as Bret turned on his car radio.  
  
"Up next is the song 'Stigmatized' by The Calling. Happy listening, Calgary, and good morning to you all."  
  
_If I give up on you, I give up on me_

_If we fight what's true, will we ever be_

_Even God himself and the faith I knew_

_Shouldn't hold me back, shouldn't keep me from you_  
  
Bret groaned miserably. "God damn...must EVERYTHING remind me of this fucking predicament I'm in?"  
  
That song...those lyrics seemed to be written just for the two of them. Despite its bringing back all the anguish that Bret was desperately trying to escape away from, he found himself listening to the song anyway as he drove on at a constant speed.  
  
_Tease me, by holding out your hand_

_Then leave me, or take me as I am_

_And live our lives, stigmatized  
  
I can feel the blood rushing though my veins_

_When I hear your voice, driving me insane_

_Hour after hour day after day_

_Every lonely night that I sit and pray  
  
We live our lives on different sides_

_But we keep together you and I_

_Just live our lives, stigmatized  
  
We'll live our lives, we'll take the punches everyday_

_We'll live our lives I know we're gonna find our way  
  
I believe in you, even if no one understands_

_I believe in you, and I don't really give a damn_

_If we're stigmatized__  
  
We gotta live our lives_

_We're gonna live our lives, gonna live our lives_

_Stigmatized  
_  
He pulled over as the song ended. Overcome once again with emotion, Bret struggled not to break down into tears, for he felt that crying was a sign of weakness. In short, he didn't want to look like a pansy. So instead, he exhaled sharply, and leaning against his car seat, he allowed just one solitary tear to roll silently down his cheek.  
  
The DJ's voice came back on the radio. "Ladies and gentlemen, you just heard The Calling's 'Stigmatized.' Now for some news...hey, folks, listen to this! The biggest event of the entire season is coming right here to good ol' Canada! It's WWE Summerslam, this August in Toronto! More details right after the commercial break."  
  
Did Bret just hear right? The WWE is coming to Canada? _I wonder if Shawn's going to be there..._  
  
-  
  
Only a postcard came this time for Shawn Michaels. Well, that and around three dozen roses, too, in both red and white. Setting aside the flowers, Shawn glanced at the familiar cursive on the postcard.  
  
-  
  
Dear Shawn,  
  
Indeed...love always finds a way.  
  
Bret  
  
-  
  
He set the postcard down on the table as well after reading it, and trudged sleepily towards his hotel bedroom. The bed was the most interesting part of the room, if one were to have a glance at it: it was covered in red rose petals, from the two bouquets of roses that Bret had sent Shawn previously. For Shawn, the petals symbolized Bret's undying love for him, and he treasured that more than anything else in the world. Falling back onto the bed, Shawn closed his eyes and inhaled the soft, delicate scent. _Yes, Bret...I will see you again._  
  
---  
  
A/N: It's time for Summerslam! What's going to happen then, you ask? Check back in a week or two for the final chapter of the story (yeah, it makes me sorry to have to end it this soon, too). It's been wonderful writing for you guys, and I'm more than grateful for all your heartwarming reviews. Reading them is one of the greatest highs of being a fan fiction writer. You don't know just how happy you all make me.  
  
'Till next time, Cold-Zephyr


	8. The PayPerView

Paper Connection  
  
By Cold-Zephyr  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Timeline: The moment after Backlash ends.  
  
Description: -slash- They may live miles apart, but love keeps them together. Read the heartfelt letters that these two send each other in this story, Paper Connection.  
  
A/N: Wow...y'all won't believe how teary-eyed I got reading the last set of reviews...you're all such nice people! Anyway, this is it, the end of Paper Connection. I've proofread it, like, ten times over, and I hope you all enjoy it, guys, as you all, each and every one of you, are the reason for this story evolving from a one-shot to a dramatic eight-chapter fic. Thank you, everyone! 'Till next time and next tale, this is Cold-Zephyr signing out.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 8: The Pay-Per-View

Toronto, Ontario, Canada. August of 2004. The crowd was hot, and the wrestlers were all amped up and ready to rumble. It meant one thing: WWE Summerslam.

Everyone backstage was conversing with each other excitedly, eagerly awaiting the start of the pay-per-view. Yet amidst all the buzz, the atmosphere seemed quiet as far as Shawn Michaels, who was seated on a chair in his dressing room lost in thought, was concerned. Needless to say, it was Bret Hart whom he was thinking about.

A knock on the door reached his half-listening ears, causing the man's blue-gold eyes to quickly glance towards the door in reaction to the sound. Shawn absent-mindedly remained in his chair while the said person twisted the doorknob to allow himself in, and one persistent question crawled across his mind, wondering about that person at the doorway: _Could it be him…?_

Shawn's heart beat faster and faster as the door very slowly creaked open. _Could this be it? Will I finally be able to see him again? Is this the moment?_ He kept his gaze fixed on the opening doorway and locked eyes with the person who stepped inside.

It was not Bret, like he had anticipated…rather, it was Glen Jacobs, known to most wrestling fans as Kane. Shawn tried his hardest to hide the disappointment in his eyes. "Hello, Glen."

To all the wrestlers backstage who knew Glen Jacobs pretty well, it was simply amazing how Glen could portray such a vicious and heartless monster on television so perfectly, because in person, Glen Jacobs was one of the most kind-hearted and compassionate people you could ever meet.

He smiled warmly and waved hello as he walked towards the blonde man sitting morosely in front of the dresser. "Hey, Shawn…I was hoping maybe we could discuss our match tonight. I really want the fans to love it, make sure they all have a great time and get their money's worth. Not too much to ask, right?" Ever the in-ring perfectionist. That was Kane, all right.

Glen Jacobs was scheduled to face Shawn at Summerslam 2004 as part of the storyline, with Shawn finally getting his revenge for Kane's vicious attack around a month ago. "Sure, Glen," Shawn mumbled blankly in reply.

"Shawn?"

"Huh?"

Genuine concern showed through in Glen's tone of voice. "Is there something wrong? You've been looking rather sad lately."

A few seconds of silence passed between them before Shawn finally replied. "I---I don't know, Glen."

The stern gaze Glen gave him made it clear to Shawn that he wasn't buying that answer. Shawn sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. Glen, have you ever loved someone who was out of your reach? As in really, really loved that person with all of your heart?"

Glen pulled up a chair and sat down near Shawn, leaning in to listen better. This sounded serious.

"Well," Shawn continued, "that's kinda what I'm going through right now. The one I love with every fiber of my being lives so far away from me, and the distance between us…it hurts. It just hurts so badly."

The corners of Shawn's eyes began to moisten, and his voice became shaky. "I suggested that we go to Canada for Summerslam because the love of my life lives here. But even if we're in Canada, which we are, there's still that huge possibility that the one I'm madly in love with won't even show up. What if that person's a no-show, Glen? What if I never get to see the one individual who means the most to me ever in my lifetime?"

The larger man seated next to him fell silent. Poor Shawn…Glen had no idea he had it so bad. How could a man even live like that? "Shawn, I don't know what to say, I…I feel so sorry for you."

"Well…thanks, Glen."

Glen stood up. "Hey, I'm no fortune teller or anything, but Shawn, I'm sure things will turn out alright for you. I really hope you'll finally end up with this person someday. Like they say, love always finds a way." He patted Shawn on the back comfortingly and quietly exited the dressing room.

_"Love always finds a way," huh…those were Bret's exact words to me in his last postcard._

-

It was tough for Kane to mask his sympathy as he watched Shawn make his way to the ring fighting the anxiety and sadness he had inside and forcing a smile for the crowd. Kane gained the upper hand as the match went underway, again playing the part of the evil, unforgiving beast. The crowd was one hundred percent in support of Shawn, who was too preoccupied to notice. He glanced at them whenever he could, searching for the one face he was dying to see. The curly dark locks and handsome features of Bret Hart were nowhere to be seen in the vast sea of screaming fans, however. _Where is he?_

"Come on, Shawn," Kane hurriedly whispered in his ear as he whipped him towards the ropes. "I know it's tough, but you gotta concentrate. We have a huge crowd to please, you know. Can't let 'em down."

"Right," Shawn replied. The feeling of defeat was sinking in; maybe Bret was indeed a no-show. Maybe he didn't even know that Summerslam was going to be held in Toronto. Maybe he just didn't want to be there. Shawn committed himself to focusing on the match instead, since he couldn't find Bret anywhere. _Why search for something that isn't there, right?_ he thought sadly.

It was twenty minutes into the match when Kane was lying on the mat after a devastating aerial attack from his opponent, Shawn Michaels. Shawn stood by the turnbuckle, stamping his foot on the mat in preparation for the Sweet Chin Music. A loud sound echoed through the arena as Shawn's boot met Kane's jaw, followed by the unified cheering of the hyped up fans. Shawn Michaels went for the cover and Kane stared up at the lights as he waited for the three-count, wanting to make things a little easier for Shawn. The bell rang, and the masses of wrestling fans present got up on their feet and screamed in support of their hero. He smiled for the fans, but traces of disappointment and sorrow reflected in the eyes of the blonde man standing victorious in the middle of the ring. This feeling wouldn't go away as Shawn walked up the ramp and made his way backstage.

Shawn sat down tiredly in the dressing room staring emptily into the mirror in front of him, not taking notice of the blood trickling down his forehead. He did, however, take notice of the lyrics of the song playing faintly in the background. Shawn recognized it as Evan and Jaron's "The Distance."

_The sky has lost it's color  
The sun has turned to grey  
At least that's how it feels to me  
Whenever you're away  
  
I crawl up in the corner  
As I watch the minutes pass  
Each one brings me closer to  
The time when you'll be back  
You're coming back  
  
_

"Coming back…yeah, I wish," Shawn muttered darkly to himself. "I've been waiting all this time for nothing. You really know how to shatter someone's heart, Bret, you really do. Who's the heart-breaker now, huh?"

_I can't take the distance  
I can't take the miles  
I can't take the time  
Until the next time I see you smile  
I can't take the distance  
And I'm not ashamed  
That I can't take a breath without saying your name  
I can brave a hurricane  
And still be standing tall when all the dust has settled down  
But I can't take the distance_

He slumped back in his chair. "God, Bret…if only you were here." His Summerslam victory was indeed sweet, but not if he had no one to celebrate with. At the end of the day, Shawn was still alone. His life still remained incomplete.

_I still believe in feelings  
But sometimes I feel too much  
I make believe you're close to me  
But it ain't close enough  
Not nearly close enough_

Shawn remained staring at his reflection in the mirror as the song faded away, staring at the pathetic vision of a sad and lonely man. He was still bleeding from the forehead, but his heart was in even worse shape.

A figure wearing a black shirt and jeans approached him from behind. Shawn figured it was just a stage hand, and he didn't even bother to look up or say hello. The crewmember had a towel in hand and carefully wiped away the blood on Shawn's face.

"Thank---" Shawn stopped mid-sentence as he spotted an envelope sitting on the dresser. He pushed the stage hand aside, lunged for it and tore it open, almost certain of who the sender was. _It's from him…I know it's from him!_

After being a no-show at Summerslam, what could Bret possibly have to say to him? What stupid excuse could he cook up for leaving poor Shawn high and dry? Or…did he have something else in store?

-

Dear Shawn,

Look up.

Bret

-

He whipped around and stared up at the crewmember who had just wiped the blood off his face---and to his utter surprise, it wasn't a crewmember at all.

It was Bret Hart.

"Nice to see you again, Shawn," he said, smiling. The emotion Shawn felt at the sight of him was indescribable: it was like shock, surprise, fury and elation all at once. "Did you miss me?"

The blonde man went into a rage. "God, Bret…I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you! I was _this close_ to giving up on you, you know!!! How could you torture me like that, you bastard? How could you?" Shawn began pounding furiously on Bret's chest, tiny droplets of tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Bret just stood there and took it, figuring the smaller man just needed to vent his anger a little bit. He wrapped his arms around Shawn comfortingly.

"What can I say, Shawn…I wanted to surprise you."

"Real nice, Bret, real nice. You sent my heart on the verge of breaking!!"

"Well, I'm sorry then." Bret shrugged. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question: Did you miss me or not?"

"Like crazy…I've been going absolutely insane thinking about you."

"Good. Me too." Their gazes locked, Bret's handsome dark eyes staring deeply into Shawn's intense blue ones. At that moment Bret seized the love of his life in a tender kiss…magical…sweet…unreal. Neither could believe that this moment was actually happening, each expecting that their connection would remain only through paper. Yet against all odds, they finally found each other. Shawn savored the moment, savored the kiss, savored the sensation of the other man's firm, sculpted lips against his own, until he pulled away for a second. There was one last lingering doubt in his mind that he had to ask Bret.

"I need to know something," he whispered softly into the other man's ear.

"What is it?"

"I've asked this before." There was uncertainty in Shawn's eyes. There was fear…a nagging fear of the unknown. "Bret…where do we go from here?"

Bret sighed and smiled at him, gently caressing his dark blonde hair. "I still don't know, Shawn. But I do know this: in my arms, I've got my happily ever after. And that's all that really matters."

Feeling more secure, Shawn snuggled in Bret's warm embrace once again. Indeed, he didn't need to know exactly what the future would bring. As long as Bret was a part of it, that was more than enough for him to be happy.

"So," Bret asked, coyly playing with his dark curls as he stared down at the floor, "when do you plan to do to me all those things you detailed in your last letter?"

"As far as you and I are concerned, we got all the time in the world, baby."

Bret laughed and placed his arm around the other man. "Come on, Shawn, I'm taking you home. You're all mine now."

"Yep…sincerely yours." The two men's laughter echoed through the empty hall as they walked out of the arena, hand in hand.

-FIN-


End file.
